


Lines - Cicatrices se fanent ma chèrie

by 1a_honorable_mademoiselle



Category: Carol (2015), Carol (2015) RPF, The Price of Salt - Patricia Highsmith
Genre: F/F, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, That 1950s road trip, Waterloo, everybody just uses those tags so I will too, idk how to use these tags omg, relationship, weird but relevant twist-sorry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-21
Updated: 2016-03-21
Packaged: 2018-05-28 05:50:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6317071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1a_honorable_mademoiselle/pseuds/1a_honorable_mademoiselle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Therese makes a ground breaking discovery about the woman she loves. If I told you here it would give it away so I won't. (Sorrynotsorry).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lines - Cicatrices se fanent ma chèrie

**Author's Note:**

> Never done this before, so hello world. I love these character so much and have been inspired by everyone's fabulous work. Decided to add a little, hopefully original twist of my own, I know it's completely not true but I felt it might be relevant if I was Carol and we don't talk about the struggles of these beautiful women's life enough. Watch Don't Bother to Knock (1952) and The Children's Hour to get what I mean. (Depressing sorry). I hope you like it in a weird way and comments or those like things would be appreciated:) sorry, I'm not being a kudos slut. I'm just going to stop now

Sharp, winter-morning light lanced through the translucent, cheap curtain that the Waterloo hotel proffered as a gift of privacy. Therese blinked, hard. A vain effort to keep her eyes remaining open, her waist warmly numb from the weight of Carol’s arm encasing her under the duvet. Carol. Therese’s body was literally humming at the memory of last night. It had been a divine perfection, where all her pre-emptions evaded her at Carol’s touch, her insecurities and confusion vanished with Carol’s kisses, and little by little, she felt whole and complete. Last night was more than mental, physical fulfilment and bliss, and for that she had one woman to thank.  
She rotated delicately and as slowly as possible. She didn’t want to disturb Carol in her serenity, not yet, and had every intention of remaining protectively encircled by her slender arm. She lay there content as she watched Carol sleep. Feathery, black eyelashes stippled onto pronounced, radiant cheeks, which effortlessly brought Therese’s gaze down to Carol’s full, pinkish lips, still smudged by remnants of their dangerous red lipstick, and now adopting a ponderous expression. That mouth. After lingering, Therese admired the woman’s blonde, tousled hair, positively glowing in the natural light. She was snapped out of her courtesan’s stupor and watched Carol, who was now grimacing, her delicately arched eyebrows knitting together as she appeared to look confused and disgusted whilst dreaming. A giggle escaped Therese, who couldn’t help but laugh at the adorableness of it all. Her intrinsic, grey eyes slowly revealed themselves and looked straight into Therese’s hazelnut ones as Carol awoke to the melodious sound, and Therese’s external laughter subsided slowly. (She was still laughing on the inside, from the sheer ecstasy of it all. How on earth had she been lucky enough for this, what had she done to deserve this?), and the two smiled contentedly at each other.  
‘My Angel.’ Carol murmured smiling demurely at the girl, tracing her red nail along the soft, momentarily rouged cheek. Deliberately slowly, for now she was not afraid or cautious, -Carol’s term of endearment had revitalised her, -now she was strong. Undefeatable. Merciless.  
With dexterity she grasped Carol’s wrist and pushed it away, - only slightly. Moving in closer, - if that was even possible, simultaneously slithering her other hand between the pillow and blonde curls to snake around Carol’s head whilst sliding a pointed toe, then calf in between Carol’s thighs and then down. The blonde lay tense with anticipation and Therese leaned in and kissed her forcefully on those fantastic lips. Fully, with passion. It deepened with want before Therese breathlessly and reluctantly backed away. ‘Let me show you how much I love you,’ she urged, to a Carol who was already using her bony hips to impatiently nudge Therese’s slim angular body, demonstrating how much she needed her. ‘Yes...’ Carol exhaled, arching her head back into the softness of the feather pillow, exposing the sumptuous expanse of pale neck. ‘I feel a fair deal is only one that is reciprocated Mrs Aird.’ Therese eagerly whispered as she straddled Carol’s flat stomach, grasping her shoulders to nip lightly at her neck. She collapsed onto Carol, compressing her arms and interlocking her short fingers with her elegant ones and kissed her, hard. Their mouths opened, tongues dancing and heads constantly readjusting, the odd jarring of teeth only adding to the hot and intense moment of passion of need. Therese slid her hips down to rest directly on top of Carol’s and started to move in circles. She pulled back to regain breath and cognizance, her mischievous eyes flirting with Carol’s own unyielding ones before she pinned Carol’s forearms down on either side of her head. Therese’s innocent eyes followed the form of them and she felt Carol go limp, cold. A harsh intake of breath distanced her as Therese realised what Carol was scared of revealing. The brunette’s face contorted with the horror and shock. Carol saw the empathy. Almost as if it had been done to Therese, as if she had felt that crushing and excruciating pain.  
She saw two jagged, raised lines. One on each. They swelled over each connection of veins before Carol’s hands with a purple tinge, fading but not removed. It looked like they had been stuck on, they shouldn’t belong on a women that was this perfect, who had everything. That’s when the realisation drowned Therese. Carol, like everyone, was human.  
‘Oh Carol…’ she gasped, with tenures of pity, heartbreak, awe and respect. Gushing admiration, for Carol, her Carol. She bent down and delicately kissed the scars on each slit wrist. Agonised memories from the time when Carol had been so distraught, so hopeless, and so vulnerable that she tried to take her own life.


End file.
